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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26586826">Dreamy Mulder</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sarie_Fairy/pseuds/Sarie_Fairy'>Sarie_Fairy</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The X-Files</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>F/M, Mumbling about eating pussy, Stakeout, erotic dream, sleeping</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-09-21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-09-21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 12:55:18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,730</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26586826</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sarie_Fairy/pseuds/Sarie_Fairy</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>I wrote this from a prompt - quick and nasty - no beta.</p>
<p>Prompt if you take any: Mulder dreaming about eating Scully’s pussy and mumbling that it tastes good. On a plane/stakeout, pre-relationship.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Fox Mulder/Dana Scully</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>111</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Dreamy Mulder</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p></p><div class="">
  <p>The rules stated that they were to both remain awake. Alert. Vigilant. Toilet breaks to be snappy, and they should bring any required food.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>All-night stakeouts? <em>Come on</em>. Not one pair of FBI agents stuck to those guidelines on overnight watches, surely. They <em>all</em> did it—caught sleep in shifts, didn’t they? Well, not Mulder—only Scully stole a few Z’s here and there. Mulder had trouble sleeping in a bed, let alone a cramped car seat.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>After waking from a 30-minute nap, Scully told him to switch out of the driver’s side with her, so at least he didn’t have to fight the steering wheel for space. To put the seat down, lie back and try to rest, if not sleep. Then she dragged a blanket off the back seat and handed it to him—more lovingly draped it over his lap, trying hard to maintain an air of <em>‘all colleagues behave this way’. </em></p>
</div><div class="">
  <p><em>Quit staring, it’s just a fucking blanket.</em> “Close your eyes.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He did as told—head lolling back against the support. The space between the rise and fall of his chest slowly growing longer.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Over their time together, Mulder had gathered much Sleeping-Scully fodder to taunt her with-<br/>
She drooled. <em>I do not!</em><br/>
Snored. <em>I don’t. I just breathe heavily when I’m incredibly tired. And I did not fart in my sleep, Mulder. Now, you’re just being a dick.</em></p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>After several long minutes, that table was possibly about to turn—Scully’s handsome partner had begun to mumble in his sleep. At first, non-sensical ramblings as she noticed him move a little and then chew on his bottom lip, lick at it. Then he moaned and slid his backside forward in the car seat, knees splaying.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Mulder?” she queried in a voice just discernible above the silence of a suburban street at 2:38 am.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>No answer. Asleep, she concluded and smiled. Noted it as the first time he had ever managed to, on the job.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Her focus returned to the building—the front door, the dark windows of the apartment they were watching at such an ungodly hour.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Hmmm ... mmm ... taste so—” she thought could decipher from his mutterings beside her. The corners of her mouth curled up. <em>He talked in his sleep</em>; a brand-new Mulder detail. She wasn’t sure why that warmed her heart so. Why she found it so adorable.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She took her note pad and pencil and wrote down the words, ‘taste so—’, smiling again to herself. Having someone asleep that close to her felt so intimate. It was such a vulnerable state of being. It made her think of all the times she trusted Mulder enough to drift into unconsciousness in his presence. Not in spite of him being there, but because of it. She had never thought about it like that before, not until now the shoe was on the other foot. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>A few minutes more dragged by and he shifted again, parted his knees further. In the darkened car, she could see his hand move to cover his crotch. Grab at it. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>A brow arched in curiosity.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Mmm, oh, mm-yummm.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Scully bit her lip to stop from making a sound. To suppress a giggle. ‘Mmm, yum’, added to her notes. Glancing back at him, she couldn’t help but watch as Mulder stroked himself through his slacks. Stare as he unmistakenly grew in his pants.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>What in the hell was he dreaming of eating that he became so aroused, she wondered. She couldn’t wait to tease him about—a little payback. <em>Now Mulder, when we walk in there, if you need me to, I can go ahead and remove any trace of doughnuts. You know, if you’re worried about controlling your self around them. </em>She smiled at the thought, interrupted by-</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Oh god, you taste so good…”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>
    <em>Oh shit. </em>
  </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She paused her pencil. <em>You</em> taste so good. <em>Oh, God</em> was Mulder having an erotic dream beside her? Was he dreaming about oral sex? About going down on a woman? Scully didn’t want to know.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Mulder rubbed himself again and turned in his seat, toward her. Close. Eyes still gently shut. Jaw slack with slumber. His cologne infecting her nostrils.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Admonished herself for the feelings of jealously that had begun to invade her psyche, she couldn’t tear her eyes from his groin. Who was he fantasising about, a foot away from her, in a dark car, on a dark street, whilst tugging at his dick?</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Hmm, like that,” his mouth ghosted around the words.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He wasn’t dating anyone. Grasping at straws, she speculated that it must be a faceless woman he was picturing himself with. One of those on the other end of a lonely phone call, $4.99 a minute. It had to be, <em>didn’t it?</em> Who else was there?</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Scully. Oh, Scully.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>
    <em>Oh shit.</em>
  </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Heart beating in her throat, she chanced a glance at his face again; his tongue darting out and licking his lips. Slow and sensual. Was he licking her down there, in his imagination, <em>oh God!</em> That grain of a thought sent a jolt right through her, low and aflame—her clit throbbing wildly.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He was clutching himself, pulling and drag and the sounds—lewd sexual tones—combined with his words to fill the car, rendering her hot and bothered and fucking turned on.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Mmm, you ... taste ... mmm ... so good,” he breathed. “Scul... Oh, mmm... Imma make you come—”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p><em>Jesus.</em> </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>There weren’t many situations where Scully didn’t have a default go-to in her playbook. Years of monster chasing, of keeping up with Mulder’s beautiful mind, and she could impro like a pro. But she was scrambling. Doctor Scully knew that everything that was playing out beside her was normal and healthy. That it didn’t have to mean that anything going on in Mulder’s dream state was something he necessarily wanted in actuality. Fantasies were often meant to remain that way, not intended to be played out in real life.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Her pencil and notebook occupying her hands, she looked down and saw that she had captured his testimonial. Written down everything he had said; the investigator in her couldn’t help but seize the evidence. Studying the words, she tried to see if it could mean anything else. Had she cooked him a pasta dinner in his dream? <em>‘Taste good. So good.’</em> Maybe. <em>‘I’m going to make you come..,’ </em>was more challenging to reconcile within that scenario. Come...<em>here? </em>Come...<em>over to my place so I can cook for you?</em></p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Oh ... your ...mmm ... pussy ... Scully. Oh god.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Alright then.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Yes, she wrote that down too.  </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Then he was quiet and still for a spell, and Scully clambered to compose herself. Put her notebook aside and smoothed her skirt down her legs, drying her palms. Tried to rationalise what she had heard. Had to admit to herself that she had occasionally fantasised about Mulder sexually too. It was ... harmless. Actually—most nights she thought about Mulder. Hell, who was she kidding, she’d daydream about him in their basement office while he was sitting not three feet away.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Perhaps twenty minutes of silence passed when he began to rouse. Scully stiffened beside him. Straightening up.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He looked across at her, sleep-addled. “Did I fall asleep?” he asked, sitting tall and stretching. Shifting the seat upright.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Yeah, just for a bit,” Scully responded, clipped.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Did I miss anything?” he questioned, nodding toward the building.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Once he turned back to look at her, she shook her head, no.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Didn’t make any strange noises, I hope,” he winked, playfully.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She bit her lip, not making eye contact. He leaned in and tried to catch her gaze. “What?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Do you know you talk in your sleep?” she told him, asked him, covering her eyes with a pair of binoculars she most definitely did not need.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“What’d I say?” he asked warily, watching her, then following where her binoculars were pointed. Turning back to her, he asked, “Scully?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Mulder, did you ever own a cat?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“No. Why?” he asked, confused.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“No reason.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“So, what’d I say?” he repeated, this time stretching out the words. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She revealed her face and looked at him again. “Um, not sure,” she lied, shaking her head. “—hard to make out. I think, maybe you were dreaming about eating ... <em>something</em>. I really nice ...<em> pie</em>, maybe?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Huh?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“I might ... I’m suddenly tired, Mulder. You okay if I just shut my eyes again for a minute?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“A pie?” He shot her a puzzled expression. “Um sure, okay. Knock yourself out.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Scully rolled away from him, mouthing ‘shit’ under her breath. Closing her eyes; thoughts of Mulder engulfed her. Of what he might have been doing to her in his sleep. Of his head down there, her hand in his hair—holding him down. Of his mouth hot and moist ... his tongue parting her, invading her, lapping at her. <em>Oh, God</em>. She pinched her legs together, jamming her clit between her thighs. Then purposefully slowed her breath, trying to mimic the pattern of somebody slumbering.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>~</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Removing his focus from Scully, her back toward him, he straightened up, noticed his erection. Vaguely wondered if she had seen it too. Surely she’d seen an accidental one or two before, in the time they had known one another. He couldn’t help it. And she was a medical doctor. Would undoubtedly know more about the workings of such things than he did himself.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Pulling his attention, a light came on in the apartment. Mulder glanced at his watch, then felt his chest pocket. Empty. Scanning the cab of the car, he noticed Scully’s notebook in the console between them, opened it where the pencil was keeping her place. Underneath the last thing she had scrawled, he wrote. Jotted down the time—made note that the living room light had come on and that he could see a figure moving about behind illuminated blinds. He glanced at Scully. Not a reason to wake her up. She should sleep, he thought.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>A few minutes passed by, and the apartment fell dark again. Shifting his focus, he watched the front entrance for a few moments. Nothing. Again he scribbled something, noted the time the light went out. He looked back over Scully’s notes to compare anything he may have missed.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>His brow furrowed, and then he abruptly looked up from the pages, glanced at Scully, grabbed his boner, and gulped, “oh, fuck!”</p>
</div>
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